Song of Seduction by Carrie Lofty Read Free Book Online Page A

attend any of them, I might consider relenting,” Ingrid said. “As a member of the Council of State, Christoph must attend. And he wants us to be there too.”
    “You, perhaps.”
    Ingrid sat up, shoving unbound chestnut hair out of her eyes. “All right, I’ll tempt you with court secrets.”
    “I am not Oliver. Court secrets don’t tempt me.”
    “Oh, hush,” Ingrid said, poking her lower lip into a pout. “When Ferdinand became grand duke last year, he was upset to have arrived in April. Our renowned festivities are that disappointing to miss. Tonight, he intends to make up for the lost opportunity. Except for Fasnacht, there will be no grander celebration this year. The whole city will take to the streets.”
    “Because tremendous gatherings suit me well.”
    Ingrid jabbed a finger. “You complain when gatherings are too small, when people scrutinize and whisper. Tonight, they will scrutinize and whisper about the duke. They won’t pay you a whit of mind.”
    Rocking once on bare heels, Mathilda eyed the cream plaster ceiling. “You’ll be happy to know I find a certain logic in that.”
    Giggling, Ingrid finally stood and submitted to Klara’s attentions. “Christoph says that about me all the time, that I am eminently logical.”
    Klara snorted. At her embarrassed flush, the three women dissolved into hysterics.
    Ingrid wasted no time in turning the lighthearted moment to her advantage. She campaigned using round, pleading eyes. “Please, dearest. Don’t stay here by yourself.”
    “All right. You win.” Mathilda flicked the ends of her heavy woolen shawl. “What do you think? Black for tonight?”
    “Oh, Tilda!” Ingrid launched into her arms, her green velvet dress gaping open at the back. Klara huffed a silent protest. “Your timely decision will save your pride, too.”
    “How so?”
    “Well, when I mention that Herr De Voss will be there tonight—conducting some ode or another for the duke—you’ll not have to embarrass yourself by suddenly agreeing to attend.”
    An hour later, with the Venners and their retinue of guests and servants, Mathilda walked east along Herrengasse. Although snow clung to roofs and window mantels, boots and hooves had thoroughly trodden the gray cobblestones. Hardy a flake remained on the ground.
    In the irregularly shaped Kapitelplatz, a thousand torches glowed as brightly as midday. The light banished winter shadows and anointed every face with a peaceful glow. Elbow to elbow, citizens milled in all three of the Altstadt’s central squares, eagerly arriving to rejoice with their new leader. Those gathered bodies dispersed the chill of evening.
    Despite her pique, Mathilda could not ignore the scene. Giant fire-filled cauldrons further illuminated the square and transformed familiar structures into mystic curiosities. The Dom, the towering two-hundred-year-old cathedral at the city center, had been constructed from off-white marble mined from the nearby mountain of Untersberg. Flames bathed those pale walls in illusory shades of gold and amber. Deep shadows accentuated the architectural flourishes of its soaring matched towers and elegant copper cupolas.
    Ingrid squealed and clung to Mathilda’s arm. “Look!”
    At baiting pens, eager men placed wagers and shouted redundant encouragements to the confined hares, badgers and foxes. Fighting to the death, the animals endured an accelerated masque of their daily struggle for survival. Mathilda grimaced but could not look away.
    Past the pens, a septet of foreign youths in colorful exotic costumes performed an elaborate routine of swordplay. The smallest of the seven acrobats, a slight girl of no more than ten or twelve years, balanced a rapier along the bridge of her nose with practiced ease. Mathilda and Ingrid applauded the group’s skill.
    Venner approached when the performance reached its fantastic conclusion. “ Meine Liebe, we must continue now.”
    The party walked through the Dombogen, the two-story